


No known answers

by Star_Miya



Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Stream of Consciousness, a bit of this and that, in no particular order
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-05-25 13:19:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14978000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_Miya/pseuds/Star_Miya
Summary: Adventures, impressions and musings of lady Sora Nequita Cualli, a very curious Watcher whose motto is "Question everything!".





	1. Colours of Eora

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wildlife in the Dyrwood is very different than in Ixamitl and she loves it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sensory prompt: walking through the woods.

The smell of the air - or is it really the ground? - is intoxicating, the birds are singing their love songs and the grass feels so soft under Sora’s feet… A trite description, isn’t it? She chuckles softly at herself - while she appreciates witty poems, she’s never been good at composing them.

She did not expect to fall in love with the Dyrwoodan wildlife, either, and yet here she is, wide-eyed and smiling as if she has just got the most wondrous gift. Perhaps that’s just what it is.

She did read about it in her books before leaving the Plains. She saw illustrations. But still, she was unprepared, so it took some time before all these colours stopped hurting her eyes and making her dizzy. So very vivid. So varied. How come nature looks this different in different parts of the world? She knows the scientific explanation, of course - but sometimes scientific explanations simply do not apply to one’s own senses, not when true art takes over.

Not that there is no beauty to the savannah where she grew up - but that’s a different kind of beauty. More familiar. More monotonous. As if the painter called nature only had one shade of green and several shades of yellow. Perhaps that was all that left after the rest of Eora - except the White that Wends - had already been painted. Compared to the Plains, the Dyrwood has been showered with all colours equally. And some of them, Sora didn’t even know before. How could it be?

Sometimes she needs some space to breathe, to be alone with her own thoughts; and she comes here when all those books in the library insist on distracting her. Here she can steal a few pleasant moments before Fyrgen or the patrolling guards track her down to inform her about a visit of another petitioner. Or simply to beg her not to wander off, like something’s there, waiting to eat her! That’s just ridiculous - wild animals don’t come this close to the keep any more, as if there was an invisible border they’ve agreed not to cross. What else is there, then? Bandits? Lord Gathbin plotting her demise, unaware that she could easily summon something to drive him off? No - next time they meet, it will be on the battlefield.

Perhaps she’s grown overconfident, but she always feels safe here. It is her land, after all. It is home.


	2. Faith Talk #1: The Druid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They may not walk exactly the same path, but they still look at the same direction.

“Blood Sands, eh? Here’s where I’ve got some reading to do. It could take a while.”

“I know, don’t worry about it. Sure, Thaos may not be willing to wait, but… take as much time as you need. Good luck finding what you’re looking for.”

“Finding? For all I know, It may be but a start of the actual search, not an- wait, what did you say? It sounded like you wouldn’t come with me.”

“Why would I? It’s between you and your gods. I’m not supposed to interfere.”

“As if that ever bothered you! I expected you to walk in gleefully and poke your little nose into anything that’s ancient to the world, but new to you, but also sacred to us. Just like you always do!”

“Well, I might have been… rethinking some things recently. Being surrounded by people who keep talking about their religion can do this to you.”

“That much? Are you sure you’re not ill? Or maybe something tore off that part of your soul which— don’t give me that all-knowing smile, I’m not hungry enough to eat even the slightest bit of your soul. But really, ‘their’ religion? What happened to ‘looks like we’re walking the same path, happy, happy, joy, joy’?”

“Not the same path. Towards the same goal, maybe, but… But then, maybe not.”

“All right, that’s unclear. Is that the way your philosophers talk?”

“Some of them. What I mean is… I was ignored by my god and turned to another one instead. Meanwhile, both your gods are still watching you. Testing you. It’s not the same.”

“Now you sound like you envy me, so I’ll give you some advice: don’t.”

“Thank you, my wise friend. But it’s not envy, it’s… I chose who to follow, but what will happen if you make that choice? Your search has shaped you the way you are now, so won’t turning away from either god deprive you from a part of yourself?”

“You’re confusing loss with letting go. Look, it’s less about giving up on anything and more about learning to do thing the right way. And maybe… Maybe the right way is simply the way I choose myself. Which is why I need to keep learning.”

“That’s exactly the way our philosophers talk. And yet… Sometimes I wonder whether I chose the right way or just the easy way. On the other hand, had I stayed true to Ondra, I would have grown bitter- no, wait. Salty. Maybe stronger, but salty.”

“See? Either way, you’re being tested. The choice between being ignored and asking the same question over and over is a choice between two different ordeals. Or would you prefer being mauled by a wild beast and cast out of your society?”

“No, I think I’ll pass. I’m neither a martyr nor a fighter, so it would only break me… while you’re still unbroken. Maybe unbreakable.”

“Of course I am, you don’t have to flatter me. And I’m going to remain unbroken no matter which way I choose.”

“It’s not flattery! Haven’t you heard about the thing called admiration? I bet you haven’t. You talk large, but don’t know admiration when you see it, do you?”

“…You know what? I’m beginning to think maybe you are my final test.”

“Who’s a flatterer now? And if I’m a test, then who sent me, pray tell?”

“We can figure it out after having a close look at the tablets. Shall we?”

“If you insist, why don’t you just say: ‘My dearest friend, I require your presence by my side, for it is comforting like nothing else’ and then I will humbly agree.”

“My most curious friend, it’s pretty clear to me that you’re looking for an excuse to come along, and therefore I will indulge you. Happy now? Yes, you can stop pretending not to laugh.”


	3. For the love of gods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sora has never wanted to become a priest, for in her dictionary it means "a maniac with a crush".

_Now listen closely, for I have food for your thoughts and you do not want to stay hungry, do you?_

_There was a priestess once. Quite young. Very clueless. Did not know much about the gods at first, but had no clear idea about what to do with her life and priesthood seemed to be a steady job. The priest who prepared her for the religious service did his best to draw out her true potential and fell in love with her somewhere along the way. His feelings met an impenetrable wall, but his teachings met favourable conditions. And so she learnt._

_First, she learnt about all that the god embodied and the ways it influenced reality. And she was enraptured with its mind._

_Then, she learnt how the god's followers worshipped it and how it affected their lives; she learnt of its saints and everything they did for the world. And she was enraptured with its heart._

_Finally, many nights of praying and contemplation later, she fell asleep and dreamt. In the dream her god came to her and show her its soul; and it was strange and unfathomable, and more beautiful than anything she had ever learnt._

_When she woke up, she realized she could see every mortal's soul._

_Soon she started gaining fame. Kith quickly found out there was a Watcher in the temple and they came to her with their troubled souls, for there was no animancy yet to console them. Restless spirits also came, asking her to guide them to the Beyond. She, however, did not want their attention or respect – she only hungered for the soul of her god and wanted to make it one with her own. But the god did not came back and she understood her soul was too weak. And so her journey began._

_The priestess wandered the world, tending to the dying, looking for ghosts of those who did not want to go, and absorbing their souls into hers, whether they wanted it or not. And yet, it was not enough._

_She learnt how to hunt small animals. Then, larger ones. She took their souls. And it was still not enough._

_Her former mentor, still enamoured, was the first kith she killed for his soul. He was not the last one._

_And so, fifteen years passed, and the priestess grew more and more anxious and impatient until she finally felt strong enough to satisfy her desire for the god's soul. She decided to spend the night alone in the temple, where she prayed and meditated, calling the god's name and waiting._

_She was found the next morning, still on her knees, smiling in delight. Her heart was still beating, but her soul was gone._

*****

The Vailian woman's face was wrinkled and her hair was grey, but her eyes sparkled and her voice was loud and clear, drawing the attention of the audience and never losing it. The woman was neither singing nor even chanting, and yet the listeners were entranced as if she put a spell on them.

Some of them were amazed. Others were indignant. But in the end, everyone was applauding and Sora's applause was the loudest.

It was an evening of singing and story-telling in the Defiance Bay theatre. One of many. This time she did not feel like participating, but as soon as the Vailian performer left the stage, she decided to approach her and treat her to the best mead in the town.

*****

The mead in the Goose and Fox inn turned out to be delicious. Safina cheerfully asked for another mug, but noticed that the Watcher was only drinking Wyrthoneg, which was – let's be honest – barely even alcoholic. Therefore, she stayed sober, unlike the performer. Did she intend to get her drunk? And if she did – what for?

Or perhaps there was nothing suspicious about her behaviour. Perhaps the reason was simple: austerity. Possibly the only trait left of the mental image of the young ruler Safina had before. From what she had heard about the woman who had talked to the gods and ended the hollowborn curse, she had expected someone more... bookish. Scholarly. Serious. Not the playful aristocrat who was sitting directly opposite her.

Ah, whatever. She hardly ever told that story, but tonight she chose it in hope for meeting the famous Watcher of Caed Nua. And she had what she wanted.

“Don't tell me you made up that story just for my sake!” The Watcher laughed heartily into her mug.

“I did not, _tella_ ,” Safina said with an exaggerated sigh. “I heard it from a chanter I knew when I was young. He was a moon godlike, just like you,” she added, watching her attentively. “Why? Too close to home?”

“No, although I met some priests who would do the same if they could,” Lady Sora rolled her eyes and grinned. “Curious that the story doesn't say which god it was.”

“Does it matter? I've always thought its meaning is supposed to be symbolic, not literal,” the Vailian said pensively. She had wondered about it many times – unsuccessfully – but did not want to appear stupid in front of that girl. “Or maybe it had happened long before the gods known to us appeared.”

“Sounds like heresy. Especially from a priestess.”

So she noticed Safina's holy symbol. A perceptive little thing, that one.

“Hylea has never objected. Perhaps I will be judged after my death, but that will be a different story. What puzzles me more is that the god is referred to as 'it'. Like an object. Or an idea.”

“Did your chanter not explain it to you?”

“No, never. He was just trying to seduce me with his songs and stories, “Safina smiled nostalgically. The man himself hadn't been her type... unlike his stories. “Can an object or an idea have a mind or a heart?”

“Why not? After all, we can try figuring out the thoughts and feelings of its creator,” the Watcher remarked. “And there's always something left of them, attached to it... A tiny piece of their soul. So, in a way, we could say it can.”

Safina slowly nodded, but didn't say anything. Was that what a Watcher's life looked like? Seeing bits and pieces of souls attached to everything, like fingerprints? In that case, no wonder that the priestess from the story had been feeding on souls for fifteen years – by the gods, they were everywhere! She always prided herself on her imagination – it greatly helped her develop her acting skills – but that? That was beyond her.

And yet she dared ask the question that was eating her.

“Have you ever seen a god's soul?”

Her Ladyship was only mildly surprised.

“No, but I can imagine what it looks like,” she said, giving the Vailian an absent-minded smile. Now she was more like the scholar Safina had imagined before. “Ancient. Built of millions souls of kith, melded together. Confused.” Suddenly she wasn't smiling any more; her mind was clearly in some dark place. “Probably still screaming for freedom, despite having long forgotten of what they used to be.”

“You make it sound like the gods are all insane.”

“Well, aren't they?” Lady Sora looked at Safina – or maybe through her. Right at her soul, perhaps? “After all, no mortal mind can really comprehend them. You might as well call it insanity.”

“True. It would take a special kind of person to fall in love with one of them,” Safina forced a smile. “But now you're the one who speaks heresy.”

When the Watcher heard that, she grinned again and winked.

“I'm just trying to match up to you,” she explained. “And the gods know exactly what I think about them anyway.”

“Interesting. You're much more than they say about you.”

“More what?” Lady Sora seemed genuinely curious. “Deranged?”

“Confusing.”

“Don't forget you've asked for this yourself.”

“I won't. Besides, I'm not saying I regret it.”

*****

Later that night, Lady Sora invited Safina to stay in Caed Nua and perform for the householders. And the Vailian accepted the invitation.

But this time she made sure all her stories were light-hearted.


	4. Soulbound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once a new friend gave her his sword...

She has never excelled at sword fight, but it does not matter. It's not what this particular sword is meant for – not anymore, not as long as she has something to say about it – even though its previous owner might not appreciate her sentiment. He never mentions that in his letters, not directly, but he's a fighter all over and she knows that. The purpose of a weapon is not to remain idle, he would say. To defend, not decorate. To inspire respect and incite fear. And then he would give a stare of doubt to her sceptre.

To be perfectly honest, her weapons of choice usually look like like luxurious toys and perhaps she should do something about it if she wants to be taken seriously, but that's a different story.

The sword is hung on a wall in her sunlit chamber; isn't it a good place to put a gift from a follower of the Child of Light? Sunbeams are often caught in its blade like in a mirror and dancing around the chamber, but the blade itself is as cold as the snow of the White March. And as sharp as her own wit, which is fitting too. The soul fragment attached to the sword also feels sharp – it pierces her mind just like sunlight pierces her eyes – but unlike the blade, it is warm. Warm and flickering like a flame of Eothasian candle. Always moving. Restless.

In her next letter to him she could ask: _Dear friend, is the rest of your soul just as warm?_ – but how would he read it? As an attempt on flirt? People often do that when she simply expresses her curiosity about them. Or perhaps as meddling with his personal matters? True, he has found some comfort in the realization that he doesn't carry this burden alone, but he remains guarded and cautious even of a fellow Watcher. Exactly because he knows what a Watcher can do. And that's good – good for him – knowing that she could gaze too deeply into his soul and awaken something that should not be awakened.

No. There's no need to add to his burden; she knows it all too well, even if she can carry it with grace and panache.

Or she could start with: _Adaryc, have you got some rest yet?_ – but wouldn't it seem like mocking? Watchers don't know true rest and neither do soldiers on duty. No, she is just as careful while writing, as she is while touching the sword. As if her care from afar could put his mind at ease.

It does not work that way. A sword hung on a wall does not stop being a sword.

 


End file.
